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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24098281">First Night</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadstone_writes/pseuds/sadstone_writes'>sadstone_writes</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Celestial Steel [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Deadpool (Movieverse), Marvel, X-Men - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst and Humor, Friendship, Hospitals, Memory Loss, Mentions of Cancer, Mentions of Violence, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Other, they/them pronouns</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 23:29:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,664</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24098281</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadstone_writes/pseuds/sadstone_writes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Lane's first night of consciousness after the events of Fractured Psyche. Exploring their connection/friendship to Wade Wilson in the aftermath of mental trauma, setting the stage for the next couple of stories I have planned in terms of Lane's state of being. Also features some more grandfatherly/healing Professor X.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>My OC uses they/them pronouns and are nonbinary</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Celestial Steel [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1722172</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>First Night</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Sleep had been something that Lane had held near and dear to their heart despite not being able to remember the last time they had any. Their body had sunk into the mattress like a ton of lead, and it was only upon waking that they realized the strangeness of the situation through the layer of comfort that the bed provided. Strange hospital bed in a strange lab, attached to a multitude of strange machines; that was never a good sign. Lane let out a grunt and tried to turn over, finding a hand at their shoulder to keep them still. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Easy space tiger, no need to get rowdy. ”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Their eyes slid to the source of the sound, vision blurry but still able to recognize the voice. “W-ade?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, it’s me. I’m right here beside you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lane slowly blinked, eyes coming into focus and looking over Wade’s form as he returned to the chair at their bedside. There was a pile of blankets and pillows around him - he had been sleeping there, several of his weapons slung across the chair and his mask thrown haphazardly on top of the IV stand. Then there was the man himself. Their first look at each other had been brief, that one night as Lane had been wheeled away under the cover of darkness, but this was...new. His skin was cratered and puckered like scar tissue as far as they could see, not a single spot of hair on his head. But still, it was Wade. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They swallowed and tried to crack a smile, finding that it was harder than they remembered it being. When they spoke their voice was soft and atrophied, and it took an extra bit of effort to pull the words from their throat. “Have you always...looked like...burn victim Emperor Palpatine?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He feigned a look of offense and placed a hand to his chest. “Okay, </span>
  <em>
    <span>ouch</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Have you always looked like an unfinished version of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Starry Night </span>
  </em>
  <span>crossed with Imperator Furiosa?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The fuck is that?” Lane groaned, trying to sit up from the bed until Wade gently pushed them back to the mattress. “And...where are we?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Easy does it, we can catch you up on all the pop culture you missed later. You need to rest now. Soak in those thousand thread count sheets for all they’re worth.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Forget the sheets, where are we?” Lane repeated, still insistent but not fighting his touch and allowing their head to sink back into the pillow. It was a comfy bed - the comfiest thing they could remember sleeping in, but their mind was too active for rest. They also had a feeling like they had been asleep for too long to begin with.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Up in Westchester. My first choice was the Hamptons but that wasn’t in the budget apparently. They spend too much money on spandex bodysuits here.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lane turned their bleary eyes at Wade and frowned in confusion “Not... the Workshop?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His expression had turned serious. “No. That place...it’s gone. Along with Francis and all those chucklefucks.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Francis?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ajax - that was his real name. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Francis</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He took Ajax from the dish soap.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Francis, huh? Stronger than grease... my ass.” Lane murmured, turning their head and coughing into their shoulder. It had been a long time since they had spoken so much; Wade handed them a cup of water which they drank from greedily, some of it spilling down their chin. “It’s gone…it’s really gone?” They asked, handing him the empty cup to be placed back on their bedside table.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Up in a ball of flames. Francis is dead and Angel is in a supermax mutant prison.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is that why you…?” Lane trailed off, gesturing to his skin.</span>
</p>
<p><span>“No, Francis gave me this fugly mug - cured my El cancer by turning me </span><em><span>into </span></em><span>El</span> <span>cancer. Kinda makes me wish I had gotten the same beauty treatment you had gotten.”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>“No, you don’t. You really don’t.” Lane swallowed. “Wade...I can’t remember much. But I know that...I did something bad. With this.” They raised a hand and stared down at the stars in their palm, furrowing their brow and closing their hand into a fist. More stars up and down their arms glittered back at them, long jagged marks intertwined with smaller, more surgical looking shreds of starry skin. They couldn’t remember any of the marks on their arms - they didn’t want to look under the blanket, afraid of what else they would find.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wade, what did I do?” Lane asked in a small voice. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It wasn’t your fault, you should know that before anything else.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you -” they began, the sound of the door to their room opening cutting them off.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A bald, elderly man rolled into the threshold on a shining wheelchair. He had a blanket on his lap and was dressed in a smart waistcoat and jacket, scholarly and sophisticated. He locked eyes with Lane and smiled, rolling up to the other side of their bed opposite of Wade. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello Lane, how are you feeling?” He asked warmly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, fine I guess. Still kinda tired.” Lane replied. For whatever reason, the man made them feel calmer. He had kind eyes with wrinkles around the edges that turned up as he smiled. Lane tried to recall if they had met before, but was drawing a blank.“Have we met before?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Briefly. My name is Professor Charles Xavier, and you’re at my school in New York. You’ve been asleep for several days down here in the medical wing while being looked over and cared for by my staff. Mr. Wilson has been by your side since we cleared you stable for visitors.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lane nodded, and he continued.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ve been through quite a lot, and I imagine you’re quite confused right now. But what I’d first like to do is ask you some questions - they may seem strange, and you may find yourself getting upset if you don’t know the answer. I ask that you try to remain calm and think clearly. Are you feeling up to it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lane looked between the Professor and Wade, shrugging their shoulders. “Yeah, sure.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What year do you think it is?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah...2015.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who is the President of the United States?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lane screwed up their face, wracking their brain for an answer. “Obama, I think.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“God I wish.” Wade mumbled, quieting himself as the Professor shot him a look. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where is the last place you remember being?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Um...The Workshop.” A dull ache had begun to form behind their eyes at this point, and they winced as it spiked in intensity. “Maybe. I think that’s right.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Professor and Wade exchanged a glance of mirrored worry. Lane wasn’t looking quite right - the hazy, far away-look was creeping in at the edges of their eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“One last question, then I’ll leave you to rest. Do you have any memories from before, or after The Workshop?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>You walk out that door then you’re not my daughter anymore/We’re giving you the chance to be a hero/The Subject is in place, ready for commands/We imagine it’ll be roughly around the same as getting over 10,000 chest x-rays at once/I never was in the first place/Wade Wilson is alive/Prepare them for suspension and mind wipe.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lane’s expression shifted to a grimace, holding their blanket in a white knuckle grip, and the Professor was grimacing as well. Their thoughts were loud and had jagged edges, slamming into one another like cars on a collision course. Wade had jumped to Lane’s side and was trying to coax them into relaxing their hold on the blanket.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s happening?” He asked, “what did you do to them?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Calm yourself, Mr. Wilson,” The professor replied, placing his hand on one of Lane’s clenched ones and holding it gently. “Lane, it’s alright. They’re just memories, and they can’t hurt you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They were breathing heavily and had begun to sweat, a thin layer shining on their forehead, eyes unblinking and distant, trained on something far away that neither of the men could perceive. Then, as the professor gently prodded their mind, their gaze softened, eyes gently closing and until they were laying still on the pillow. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve put them back to sleep, Mr. Wilson.” The professor explained as Wade had begun to shout. “They were getting agitated.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wade scoffed. “Yeah, I can see that, but what the fuck just happened? It looked like you both were trying to pass a kidney stone.” He sat back down in his chair reluctantly. “And what’s with the 2015 stuff? I mean I know this year has been a shitshow so far, but to forget five whole years?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s the last point in time that their brain has any sense of time or place.” The Professor wheeled back to the end of Lane’s bed and pulled their chart, jotting down several notes before placing it back.“I was hoping there would be a clear point from their past that we could use, even just to get a sense of who they truly are. But...no such luck I’m afraid, not at the surface level, at least. Our work has been cut out for us.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, but why that point?” Wade asked, watching as the Professor had begun to wheel himself out of the room. “Why is that shithole the last place they remember?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I imagine it had something to do with you, Mr. Wilson. They seem to consider the two of you to be friends, however brief your time was together.” The Professor replied, giving Wade a sympathetic smile as the door shut behind him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wade huffed and leaned back in his chair, frowning slightly. The lab fell back into silence, Lane's peaceful breathing and the humming of various machines being the only sound in the room. He knew they would be okay here, but he didn't want to leave them. Not yet. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, who’s going to break the news about the President?”</span>
</p>
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